


Five Times Bokuto Koutarou Shut His Mouth

by meelie98



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous Mental Illness, M/M, My first fic please be kind, ambiguous disorder, bokuto is pure, it's not a focus though, its fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meelie98/pseuds/meelie98
Summary: And one time Akaashi Keiji shut it for him.





	Five Times Bokuto Koutarou Shut His Mouth

FIVE TIMES BOKUTO KOUTAROU SHUT HIS MOUTH ( AND ONE TIME AKAASHI KEIJI SHUT IT FOR HIM)

**1.**

Bokuto did not think much of the new First Years. They were short – surely far shorter than he had been last year – and not very enthusiastic. He had greeted them all with a slap on the back and a hand-burningly fierce high five, only to recieve blank stares in return.  
He especially did not think much _at all_ about the setter guy, Akaashi. (Was that grammatically correct?) He was taller than the other new recruits and he was pretty and all, but he looked like he never brushed his hair. And Bokuto did not trust people who didn’t style their hair, regardless of how soft and wavy it fell naturally. The exception to that rule was Kuroo, but the guy looked so inarguably _kickass_ with bedhead there was nothing for Bokuto to be suspicious of. Kuroo was a great, kickass guy in general.  
   Wait, what was he talking about?  
   Right, Akaashi, perpetually unimpressed pretty boy, seemed like a solid player but kind of boring. Easily annoyed. They had only had four practices together but Akaashi had looked _extremely_ irked like, at least three and a half times, so he probably hated Bokuto anyway. Not like Bokuto cared. At all.  
   “Bokuto, let Akaashi practice with you,” said Michi, Fukurodani's Captain, who had wasted all of the last two training sessions helping Akaashi instead of Bokuto.  
   “Yeah, sure, I guess,” Bokuto pouted. He trudged over to Michi and Akaashi, who both frowned at him. Michi wandered off to mutter with Konoha in the corner, probably asking why Bokuto was in such a bad mood. Even though he was, you know, the _sixth best ace_ in all of Japan (okay all of under-16 Japan) and definitely more important than a crowd of scrawny first years. The reason for his glum demeanour was obvious.  
   “Hello, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. So formal. So dumb.  
   “Hey.”  
   “I have heard you’re a gifted spiker. I’m sure this practice will be helpful,”  
_Ohoho._  
   Well _that_ changed everything. Immediately, Bokuto perked up.  
   “ _Gifted_ spiker, huh? Who told ya that? It’s true obviously, but…Was it Yukie? I bet it was Yukie, she loves me. Or Komi. Was it Komi? Komi says my accuracy sucks but I know deep down he’s super impressed by my power. Natural talent like mine isn’t something you come across every day. I’m the ace by the way. Second Year ace. Yep, I’m kind of incredible like tha - Wait, wait, wait. Was it Kaizo?” Kaizo was a third year who spent most of his time honing Bokuto’s own technique. He wasn’t bitter about being overtaken by a second year as the ace, which Bokuto thought was very admirable and took a lot of maturity he probably didn’t possess.  
   While Bokuto had blindly chattered, Akaashi had shuffled to the sidelines, requesting Yukie toss for them. She eyed Bokuto for a second, muttered something in Akaashi’s ear, and stood up preparing to throw the ball.  
   She was probably telling Akaashi what a great spiker Bokuto was. It was common knowledge after all.  
   They lined up and Bokuto watched Akaashi’s movements carefully. The boy shifted on his feet, glancing upward every so often. Bokuto loved practicing with different setters, even if they were boring first years.  
   The ball was thrown into a perfect arc, and Akaashi leapt towards it, wrists flicking with the speed of a whip being cracked, long fingers brushing the ball’s surface for a brief second. Without taking a breath, Bokuto’s arm circled forward, thigh muscles tensing before propelling him into the air. His palm and the ball collided with a satisfying _smack_. It landed dead centre on the opposite side of the court.  
   Bokuto inhaled. His teammates were staring. He continued blinking at the spot in the centre of the court where the ball had landed.  
   It was perfect. Like Bokuto hadn’t even had to think about it. He just jumped. And though he had spent all of the year prior being told he _‘couldn’t just jump’,_ couldn’t rely on speed and raw instinct alone…  
   Just jumping felt pretty damn good.  
   “Bokuto-san,” Akaashi breathed, now directly beside him. When had he gotten that close? “Was there something wrong with that?” Consciously, Bokuto shut his slack jaw. It must have been a good minute or so he had just stood in awe, but he didn’t have time to be embarrassed by his over the top astonishment. The gym vibrated, silent but humming.  
  “AKAAAAAASHI!” He cried, slinging an arm over the shorter boy and pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “That was incredible! That was so good! Yukie toss for us again!”  
  “Please get off of me.” Akaashi muttered. “Now.” Bokuto did, but not before shaking Akaashi by the shoulders violently.  
   “That was so good, right?! Right?!”  
    “Well. You are certainly a good spiker.”  
   “Yeah! I know, right? Michi make Akaashi a regular! ‘Kaashi deserves to be a regular! Make him one!”  
   “He’s been here a week, Bokuto,” The Captain raised a tired eyebrow.  
   “Oh, c’mon! That was impressive! Admit it was impressive, Michi!”  
   “It was – “  
   Bokuto _whoops_ loudly before Michi can finish his sentence.  
   “Now I hope I’m not being disrespectful, Bokuto-san,but Keizo told me you are struggling with cross spikes. He believes with your immense power, you could polish your straights until they are as effective as your very best cross, and after witnessing that, so do I.”  
   “Aww c’mon Akaashi don’t ruin it with technical stuff!” Bokuto whined, though he stored the words away for later. He didn’t want to think about cross spikes at the moment. He wanted to think of more practices with Akaashi, about the shocked stares of his teammates. “That was rad!”  
   Akaashi sighed, but his eyes didn’t. They flickered like he was trying to solve a very difficult Math problem.

 **2.**  
    
Bokuto was at Nationals for a second time and he couldn’t stop bouncing on his heels. Everytime he sat down his knee started jerking up and down uncontrollably, like every molecule in his body was buzzing with energy, barely contained by his skin. He wanted to stand on every bench in the giant, colossal hall and yell ‘ _I LOVE VOLLEYBALL!!!!!!!’_  
Akaashi, on the other hand, looked like he was about to be sick.  
   That wasn’t good. Bokuto gingerly tapped Akaashi on the shoulder. He flinched. No wonder – Bokuto had snuck to their spot through one of the equipment closets, and they were now about as close to the sidelines as you could get without being the ref. Volleyballs were flying in all directions.  
   Logically Bokuto knew Akaashi wasn’t edgy due to the threat of a volleyball to the face (they had all gotten enough of those they were practically immune.) But the idea of calm, level-headed Akaashi feeling nervous made Bokuto’s stomach squirm uncomfortably.  
   “You alright, ‘Kaashi?”  
   “Fine, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi murmured. “I didn’t…realise the skill level of Itachiyama. For such a reserved first year, Sakusa is exceedingly gifted. Even Ushijima’s incredible strength pales in comparison to his natural abilities. It’s difficult not to imagine him becoming a Top 3 Ace next year, after Ryoichi graduates,”  
      _Great._ Bokuto thought. _Even Akaashi is sucking Sakusa’s dick._  
“He’s alright, I guess. Kiryu is good too though,”  
    “He is.”  
    “You know….Well, you know that…”  
    “What do I know?”  
    “Kuroo once told me if I dealt with my mood stuff I could be as good as Ushijima. Better, even. And I don’t think Kuroo would lie just to make me happy. Like I mean he’s my friend and all but when I suck he tells me I suck. Kinda like you.”  
     “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that you suck, Bokuto-san,”  
     “Well? Do you agree?” Bokuto asked, growing impatient.  
     “With what?”  
     “That I could be a Top 3 ace!”  
      Akaashi frowned. “Of course.”  
     “No, listen Akaashi, I really think that if I – wait, what?”  
     “Of course, Bokuto-san. I’ve trained with you for nearly a year now. In top form, you could beat any of these players. Unquestionably.”  
     Bokuto remained quiet because he was sure if he opened his mouth nothing but an odd squeak would come out. However much Bokuto yelled about being the best, he sometimes had this weird feeling nobody else did. He knew his mood swings were mocked by his opponents, even occasionally by his teammates. They seemed like such a big deal -  and they were, during matches; his chest was swallowed by such immense, shadowy self-doubt that he felt every move he made would be a permanent mark of humiliation. Bokuto wanted to curl up and never be seen again, to wish himself out of existence. But he knew in the long run, they didn’t matter. His hardwork, his training, his post-training training, would pay off in the end. He was incredible, brilliant, one day, he’d be the best. Bokuto was capable of anything and everything if he put his mind to it.  
    Regardless, nobody except Bokuto’s Mom had ever said anything like ‘You could beat any of these nationally ranked players, unquestionably, you are definitely Top 3 material’ without a trace of irony before. Bokuto’s own staggering self-belief was often undercut by other’s underestimation.  
   So Akaashi’s apparent faith in him was a pretty big deal.       
   Embarrassingly enough, he felt himself going red. Bokuto felt inclined to bury his increasingly warm face in his jersey, but that would obscure his view of the court.  
     “What’s wrong _now,_ Bokuto-san?” Akaashi huffed, growing exasperated.  
     “Uhhh…nuthin’…”

  ( _“Hey, hey, hey! Come on guys, you’re not going back to the hotel room already right?” Bokuto yelled, throwing his hands out in disbelief. “We gotta scope out the competition!”  
“We’ve been doing drills since 12pm, Bokuto,” Sarukui said. The sweat soaked towel drooping from his head really brought the point home. “We gotta be well rested for the game against Kiryu tomorrow, anyway,”  
“Is no one gonna come with me?”  
“Aw…” Konoha smirked. “I’m sure Akaashi’ll want to, Bokuto.”  
“Huh? What makes you say that?”  
“Indeed,” Akaashi said, brow furrowing slightly. “What makes you say that?”  
“Wait, _ will _you stay behind with me? Come on, ‘Kaashi, please?”  
“You two really should rest up,” Michi sighed.  
“I wouldn’t mind staying, Bokuto-san,”  
“_ Alright!”  
_“Of course,” Yukie smirked. Which was weird because Konoha always smirked but Yukie didn’t. Bokuto was worried there was some kind of inside joke he was missing out on.  
“Of course what?” Akaashi asked, brow lowering further. Bokuto might have just been imagining it, but he looked a little pink.  
“Yeah, of course what?!”  
“Yukie, Konoha, leave them alone,” Michi said, stern but obviously amused. Then it hit Bokuto. They were making fun of Akaashi because he looked up to Bokuto so much and thought he was so amazing he constantly hovered around the older boy. How adorable! His kouhai wanted to be just like him!  
“Awww, c’mon, guys, don’t embarrass him!” Bokuto grinned, throwing an arm around Akaashi's shoulders. And Yukie's, for good measure, because she was close enough. “Course Akaashi’d wanna hang out with a super cool upperclassmen like me, it’s only obvious! He wants all my incredible life advice and volleyball tips. Stop giving him grief. Akaashi is like, way smarter at strategy than all of you, anyway,”  
“I feel so appreciated,” Michi snorted. Yukie and Konoha exchanged meaningful glances.  
Akaashi didn’t look any less embarrassed after this. If anything, his scowl grew meaner, his face a deeper shade of scarlet.)_

**3.**

Bokuto never got anything for Valentine’s Day, which was fine. Disappointing, but fine. Something he had grown used to. His classmate’s found him annoying. Sweet and kind hearted, but ultimately annoying. Back in First Year, a couple of girls had asked Bokuto out, but he’d been too utterly engrossed in Volleyball to properly notice them. Last year he went on a date with a girl called Manami, but that went bust. When he enthusiastically mentioned Karch Kiraly, Manami had sipped at her coffee and grinned sheepishly.  
   “Who’s Carsh Keerally?”  
    It just wasn’t meant to be.  
    Anyway, Bokuto wasn’t completely dense. He knew his eyes were lopsided and kind of squinty and he asked too many dumb questions in class – Volleyball Captain (yeah he was Captain now no big deal) or not, he wasn’t exactly the type of guy girls flocked to.  
    Apparently Akaashi Keiji was.  
    When Akaashi walked into the changing room twenty minutes late (Bokuto had made the team wait for him to arrive), he was carrying his backpack, his gym bag, and four plastic bags filled to the brim with chocolate. That made Bokuto grin really big. Immediately he stood and rushed to the door, sneaker only half on, because he thought maybe Akaashi had bought some half price chocolate from the local convenience store to share with him. That must be why he was late. Akaashi was thoughtful like that. _Plus,_ he was smart enough to realise they’d be selling off cheap candy at 4pm on Valentine’s Day as well. Everyone thinks it’s the day after, but Bokuto knew from sugar binges back in Junior School that after the school day ended, the shops nearby couldn’t get rid of their tacky Valentines themed candy quick enough.  
   Nobody else seemed half as excited for free food as Bokuto though. If anything the team looked kinda…resentful.  
    “Caught up with something? Or…someone?” Konoha asked knowingly, slipping into his jersey.  
   “It was nothing, I apologise for my tardiness,” Akaashi coughed. “Who wants chocolate?” He upturned the plastic bags, spilling out a million tiny packages wrapped with silky pink ribbons, scrunched up in blackened foil, paired with cards and little notes. Perfumed notes. Notes that probably all said ‘ _We looooove you Akaashi, your hair is soooooo soft Akaashi, ooooooh Akaashi marry me’._  
Bokuto was such an idiot. Of course Akaashi hadn’t bought the chocolate himself. He was late ‘cause he probably had a 50 metre long queue of girls trying to confess to him behind the gym after school. 50 metre long queue of girls that wanted those dumb lidded unimpressed green eyes all to themselves. _Why?_ Akaashi was handsome, undeniably so, but he was so serious all the time. So responsible. They might as well ask out a goddamn teacher. All those girls didn’t even like Akaashi anyway; they just liked his good grades and quiet voice and dumb lidded unimpressed eyes. He was a lot more than that. He ate too much and was grouchy in the mornings and really liked cheesy music from the 80s. He had this study timetable coming up to exams and if you disrupted it with important phonecalls about volleyball matches from the 1992 Olympics he’d get super mad. He snored ridiculously loud. Those girls didn’t know that stuff about him, all that silly, embarrassing stuff. None of it. At all.  
“Bokuto, you alright?” Saru laughed. Bokuto peered up, blinking. The team had ran over, resentment apparently dampened by the offer of free sweets. He realised he had balled his hands into fists so tight his nails pierced pale crescent moons into his palms. Bokuto released them with a shake.  
   “Huh? Yeah,”  
   “I’m just wondering what that chocolate did for you to be looking at it like that,”  
    Bokuto felt the beginnings of a pout appearing on his face. Yeah, he was pretty angry. It didn’t seem fair to him that Akaashi got all these gifts from girls who really knew nothing about him, nowhere near as much as Bokuto did, at least, while Bokuto himself received nothing. Picking up a box in particularly beautiful packaging, he read the small, handwritten letter taped to it.  
    “ _Fusako?_ ” Bokuto exclaimed. Akaashi pressed his lips together and shut his eyes very slowly, as though bracing for impact.  
   “Yes, Bokuto-san, the chocolates are from Fusako, what about her?”  
   “ _Ai Fusako_ confessed to you?”  
   “Yes, she did. Behind the science building,”  
   “Holy shit!” Komi squeaked. Hands began snatching at the note, but Bokuto kept a firm grasp of it, contorting out of his teammate’s reach.  
   “What did you tell her?” He frowned.  
   “I said no. We’ve never spoken to one another before. I don’t wish to date someone who only enjoys my looks,”  
   “Who cares? I still would have said yes,” Muttered Saru.  
   “You’d have said yes to a dog if it was willing, Sarukui,”  
   “Oi!”  
   Komi and Saru began bickering in the corner.  
   “She’s like, so popular ‘Kaashi, why didn’t you…?”  
   “Hey, where’s Washio?” Konoha interrupted. The team craned their heads around to search for the hulking third year, only to find him putting his knee pads on in a hidden corner of the changing rooms, appearing thoroughly disinterested in their group circle. “Don’t you want some chocolate?”  
    “My girlfriend gave me a box already.” He grunted. There was a pause.  
    “ _GIRLFRIEND??”_  
 The room exploded, the team (bar Bokuto and Akaashi) running towards Washio in a flurry of surprised exclaims, words thickened by Akaashi’s second hand chocolate. All talk of Fusoka was forgotten.  
   Bokuto did not speak very much that training session. He didn’t really speak much at all to Akaashi for the next few days. At one point, Akaashi even texted _him_ first when they got home from school. That was surprising, but not enough Bokuto texted back.  
   It wasn’t really like one of his moods. Those were frantic spirals of emotion, like there was too much in Bokuto’s head, like everything at once. A headache of thoughts. This was more because Bokuto just didn’t feel much like talking, not out of spite or depression or a secret desire for attention, but because he realised if he spoke to Akaashi his jealousy would be obvious. That didn’t seem fair. Bokuto was staying quiet to…conceal his feelings.  
     This was very peculiar indeed.

 **4.**  
  
Bokuto’s phone rang, like an air raid siren located on his bedside locker. Stubbornly, he ignored it, eyes clasped firmly shut. Pretending it wasn’t ringing meant it wasn’t ringing.  
It kept ringing. Groaning, Bokuto reached out and grasped for his phone through the mass of hollow water bottles and empty protein bar wrappers on his locker.  
   “Hey, hey,” He yawned. “What’s up?”  
   “Bokuto-san,”  
    Immediately, Bokuto bolted upright. Akaashi never called him. Let alone at 9:10 on a Sunday.  
   “Akaashi, what’s wrong?”  
    There was a shaky, furious breath on the other side of the phone.  
   “Did you forget the extra practice session today? The practice _you_ organised? Or rather, got me to organise for you? Because we won’t have access to the gym tomorrow prior to our match against Nekoma? The qualifier match for Nationals?” Akaashi’s voice was filled with pure, unfiltered annoyance. The annoyance was dulled beneath Akaashi’s typical impassiveness, but the grind of his teeth was still audible.  
   He checked his notifications, all remnants of sleepiness gone.  
   _4 TEXTS FROM: AKAASHI. 2 MISSED CALLS._  
“Oh shit,”  
Two missed calls from Akaashi was the regular person equivalent of him breaking into Bokuto’s house and dragging him to the gym by the scruff of his neck.  
   Bokuto was out the door within eight minutes. Soon him and Akaashi would laugh about that time he managed to clear three glasses off his desk while scrambling into his jersey after leaving the team waiting forty whole minutes for him to arrive to one of the most important training sessions of the year. Hahaha. They’d laugh even harder when they thought of Akaashi hanging up midway through Bokuto’s hysterically apologetic yelling.  
   Ha.  
   Bokuto’s Mother blinked at him, muted by shock, when he snatched a piece of toast from her plate and sprinted outside without so much as a goodbye. Normally he didn’t wake up before 1pm on Sundays.  
   There was no time for buses. He ran the entire way to school, took a shortcut through an underpass to the back of the gym building before slamming frantically on the locked fire exit. Bokuto felt like such an idiot. How could he be late for something as important as this? How could he be late for something volleyball related in general? Suddenly he was overwhelmed with regret that not only had he angered Akaashi, but also missed forty minutes of volleyball drills.  
   The doors in front of him swung open. Yukie stared at him, mouth tilted downwards.  
   “Bokuto, did you r…really…” She paused. “Oh my god.”  
   “Yukie I am _soooo_ sorry I forgot about this, this totally isn’t the kind of behaviour expected from me, I probably disappointed all the First Years,” Bokuto keeled over, hands gripping his knees, panting heavily. “They shouldn’t be seeing their insanely talented Captain like this. I’m such a bad influence. I bet their image of me is now destroyed. Has Suzumeda started crying? Please tell her not to cry! I can’t believe Suzumeda is crying, oh my god,” He peered into the gym. Akaashi turned around, glaring. Then the glare shifted into shock.  
   “Bokuto-san.”  
   “Don’t worry guys, I’m here now, the panic can end.” He straightened up and shuffled through the doorway. The Coach wasn’t there today, so hopefully Bokuto could convince his teammates not to mention him arriving late to a training session that had been his idea. “What are we doing? Twofers? One on ones? Let’s go,”  
“Woah, Bokuto!” Komi cried from across the court. “You really did rush here. I’ve never seen you with your hair down,”  
    _Fuck._  
   Instantly Bokuto’s hands jumped to his hair. Thick white strands lay limp over his forehead. He let out an undignified squawk, before shouting,  
    “ _Nobody look at me!”_  
     It echoed through the gym. Everyone turned to look at him.  
    “Oh, no, Bokuto, it’s really not that bad, I don’t – “ Komi chuckled nervously.  
    “Has anybody got hair gel?! This is not a joke! Onaga, have you got hair gel?!”  
    “Holy shit,” Konoha laughed, clearly amused by the situation. Akaashi silenced him with a frown. Bokuto slumped against the wall, eyes glazed over, shoulder’s hunched. Following the collective sigh of everybody on court, Yukie began patting Bokuto’s shoulder comfortingly.  
   Great. Another half hour of practice wasted. Perhaps on some other day seeing Bokuto having a meltdown over looking like an ordinary person for once would be entertaining, but they desperately needed last minute training before the Nekoma match tomorrow.  
   Akaashi waved at his teammates to carry on practicing before making his way over to the bench Yukie and Bokuto were situated on. He looked down at his elders, appearing exasperated and extremely confused simultaneously.  
   “Bokuto-san, please get up. Not only are you late but this behaviour is foolish. You look absolutely fine.”  
   “ _Fine?_ ” Bokuto exclaimed. “ _Fine?_ Do you have any idea how _ridiculous_ I look like this?” Yukie let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh of disbelief.  
   “Quite honestly I don’t, Bokuto-san. I wouldn’t lie to you. You look fine.”  
   “You wouldn’t understand, ‘Kaashi, cuz’ you’re completely, undeniably gorgeous without even trying! But I have an image to keep up! I gotta care about my appearance!”  
   “What.”  
   “There’s a reason I spend so much time gelling my hair every morning! Nobody has seen me like this since before Junior School! Well, ya know, except my Mom but…Look, I may be average looking but at least people can tell from my hair how awesome I am! That’s the point. That’s why I do it. Now what? Who even _am I_ without my spikes?”  
   “What - what did you say?”  
   “I know, I know, it’s hard to believe, ‘Kaashi, but yeah, sometimes even _I_ feel insecure about myself. It’s almost horrible as it is completely shocking,”  
   “No, the thing about…” Akaashi was back to seeming annoyed. Bokuto halted his rambling and instead hung his head. He was so irresponsible, showing up late. _And_ he looked like such an idiot right now. “No matter. Simply brush your hair out of your face and aid Sarukui with his receives. We’ll need to polish them if you plan to beat Kuroo tomorrow. Isn’t that what you want?”  
    Bokuto merely whined petulantly. Mentioning Kuroo had not worked half as well as Akaashi would have liked. Yukie fidgeted around on the bench next to Bokuto awkwardly. She was clearly unsure of what to do. Bokuto seemed firm in his belief that arriving late to practice with floppy hair was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him. Although it probably didn’t make the Top 50, Yukie could hardly tell him that. She had no idea how to fix this. It wasn’t as though she could lie and tell Bokuto some unnamed stunner in the bleachers had said ungroomed boys that were fashionably late were _totally hot,_ which was her normal ply. Really, she needed some contingency plans for when Bokuto went into emo mode. The boy was getting more and more complex as of late. They couldn’t have a fiasco like this during Nationals.  
   She glanced up at Akaashi desperately. Underneath his eternally cool outer layer, he was just as lost.  
   “Akaashi, Yukie,” Bokuto said very solemnly. “I can never come back to this gym again. I’m moving schools. Don’t bother changing my mind,”  
    Akaashi clenched his jaw, green eyes flickering with internal debate.  
   “Fine.” He turned and walked away.  
   Bokuto wilted even further. Yukie continued patting his shoulder with hesitant hands.  
    _Completely and undeniably gorgeous._  
 What was Yukie thinking? Bokuto Koutarou, complex? Please.  
   “Do _not_ make me regret saying this, Bokuto-san,” She sighed, throwing her arms out with the dramatic resignation of someone truly desperate.  “I’m sure Akaashi would be very embarrassed knowing I told you this, and you must promise not to mention it to him, but…when you came in, he said you look _very_ handsome with your hair down. Incredibly so. Enough he has no idea why you would style it so much each and every day. He always said he wondered what your hair looked like down. Listen, he thinks it looks _more_ than fine. Honestly. Akaashi wouldn’t lie, right? So there’s no need to worry about that.”  
   Bokuto was now glad for the pale bangs covering his face. They hid the way his eyes bulged.  
   “Wh…I’m, uhm….He said that…?”  
   “Mm,” Yukie nodded enthusiastically.  
   “Really?”  
   “Kind of muttered it really. You know how shy Akaashi can be. _Especially_ when it comes to you.” She paused in surprise, as though she had said too much. “I guess you wouldn’t. He hides it _so_ well when you’re around. There’s no need to worry either way. Just focus on helping the team beat Nekoma tomorrow.”  
   With one final, reassuring pat on the back, Yukie stood and walked onto the court, a smile spreading across her features the moment they were out of Bokuto’s sight. Bokuto, too, stood, wordlessly following her. His team stared at him warily for a few moments, as though they feared he might have another tantrum any second – he looked distinctly dazed. But the moments passed, and practice resumed as usual. Konoha gaped at Yukie with a mixture of astonishment and respect; Akaashi seemed bemused.  
     There was a lot Bokuto could have asked Akaashi right then, but he said nothing. What Yukie had told him sounded unreal, but also made a lot of sense. He didn’t wish to embarrass the younger boy at all, nor annoy him any further.  
    Bokuto was satisfied with the odd, pleasant squirming in his abdomen, and the slap of a volleyball against his palm.

**5.**

Bokuto woke up on the coach to Nationals.  
Akaashi was watching a volleyball match on his phone, black earphones in. In the dark, his skin was like creamy white milk. Bokuto yawned. The rest of the team was fast asleep, heads lolled against velvet seats.  
   “Why’re you up?”  
    Akaashi started, ripping the buds from his ears.  
   “Bokuto-san,”  
   “Sleep, Akaashi, we’ve gotta be well rested,” Traffic had been terrible. The driver had said they would probably reach the venue at 2am, rather than the predicted 11pm. This wasn’t a very good start to Nationals.  
    Akaashi appeared to be considering his response.  
   “I can’t sleep,” He decided on.  
   “Why not?”  
   “I’m unsure.”  
    There’s a pause.  
   “Are you nervous?”  
   “I guess,” Akaashi shrugged. This simple admission seemed difficult for him. Last year, Akaashi had been adamant he wasn’t apprehensive about their matches, as though his lack of anxiety would soothe Bokuto somehow. Perhaps reassuring Akaashi he didn’t need to calm him down would help.  
   “Yeah, I mean, if it helps, I never get nervous! But I guess I’m just unique like that!” Bokuto nodded, grinning. Akaashi narrowed his emerald eyes.  
   “That’s wonderful for you, Bokuto-san.” He placed his buds back in, not bothering to hide the chagrin on his face.  
    _Oh no._ That probably wasn’t the right thing to say. Lightly, Bokuto swatted at the wires of Akaashi’s earphones, not quite daring to pull them out.  
   “Why are you worried, ‘Kaashi? We’re going to win!”  
   The contempt melted from Akaashi’s face, replaced with something pained.  
   “Bokuto-san,” He murmured very softly. “I’m going to say something and you might not like it but you have to understand it.”  
   “Uhh…okay,”  
   “I think it’s fairly likely that we’ll lose Nationals. I’ve been watching our opponents’ older matches and analysing their play style. While we’re irrefutably powerful, we’re flailing in comparison to some of them. That’s not to doubt your leadership or talents, Bokuto-san, or to question Coach Takemi’s wisdom. It’s just an undeniable possibility.”  
   Bokuto, for the first time in his life, felt nervous about volleyball.  
   “Why are...why are you saying this, ‘Kaashi?”  
   “Because I fear that should we lose you’ll have one of your…slumps. An exceptionally bad one.” Akaashi was clearly thinking about last year, how following Fukurodani’s loss at Nationals, Bokuto hadn’t left his house for nine days. The nine day period was foggy, but Bokuto remembered staring at the wall a lot and saying something about wishing he was dead that made Akaashi go very pale. Guilt gathered in his stomach.  
   “You don’t gotta worry about that, Akaashi,” Bokuto frowned. “’Cuz we’re gonna win,”  
   “That’s not particularly hel-“  
   “No, listen, Akaashi, I’m not being stupid. We could actually win. Listen. You’ve got Itachiyama. They’re our biggest opponent, ‘cuz their offense is _nuts_. In our defense line, you’re the weakest link, but you’ve been training so hard lately. Your progress has been insane. Date Tech levels? Nah. But you, Onaga and Washio’s blocks are gonna be like a brick wall in the moment, when the adrenaline kicks in, I promise, I’ve been watching you guys. And don’t be scared of Sakusa. He’s only so terrifying because everyone makes him out that way. When it comes to it, I’ll crush that guy,” Bokuto clenched his hand threateningly. “Karasuno are borderline newbies, not to underestimate the Jesus-y ace dude or the Captains or anything, but their real strength comes from the First Years. I love Hinata and Tsukki, duh, but Hinata is reckless and Tsukki is sulky and both of them kinda suck at basic stuff when it comes down to it. The freckly kid is probably gonna improve - watch out for him next year – but he’s no threat now. Kageyama is nearly as reckless as Hinata, genius or no. He’s better than before, but his setting for everyone except Hinata just…it pushes them too much. Scary guy, though. Look, I’ve no doubt they’ll go further than anybody expects, but they’re not gonna win. Anyway, Hinata and Tsukki aren’t gonna care about us. You know them, they think we’re soft, the guys that helped ‘em out. They’ll be aiming for the big shots. Itachiyama, like you said. And of course the whole rivalry thing they’ve got with Nekoma, crows and cats or whatever. Nekoma, we know, is beatable. Kuroo knows we’re good, and Lev is like, a great guy, but they’re only gonna care about Karasuno until that match is done with. We’re a sidenote. And Kenma…he thinks I’m dumb or something. I know it.”  
   “Kenma is far more perceptive than you seem to think, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said.  
   “Yeah, yeah, he’s probably got us a bit figured out. But even he can’t get past what everyone else sees, not entirely. He thinks the team’s carried by me, but my…stuff, uh, gets in the way, and messes us up. He thinks I’m a weak spot, like in one of his video games. I screw up and we’re done. Fukurodani is way more than that. I think you could rival Kenma strategy wise, Akaashi, and Komi might not be some godlike libero on Yaku’s level, but he’s _good_. They underestimate us. Kyushu’s not a problem. Kiryu is _super_ talented, don’t get me wrong, but let’s be real, the rest of the team is just kinda okay. We get past Kiryu and we’re good.”  
   “What about Inarizaki?”  
   “Inarizaki? Please. Miya Atsumu is an asshole. He’ll think I’m a cheap laugh, dismiss us, and then we’ll wipe the floor with ‘em,” Bokuto paused, cocking his head to the side. “Maybe watch out for the twin, though,”  
    Again, Bokuto yawned.  
   “Huh,” Akaashi breathed.  
   “What?”  
   “Bokuto-san, I think you are…” He mulled over his words briefly. “Much smarter than anybody gives you credit for.”  
   “What?”  
   “Is that…are these the kind of things you think about during practice matches? Training?”  
   “I don’t…” Bokuto was both puzzled and slightly sleepy. “I just kinda made it up as I went. Everyone knows this stuff. You did, right?”  
   “Certainly I had considered most of what you brought up, and yours’ was a simplified version but…” Akaashi trailed off. Then he smiled. Like, proper actual smiled, not a smug smirk or content line, but a true upwards curl, happy and pink and fond. “Suffice to say I am no longer quite so nervous, Bokuto-san,”  
   Though he tried to reply, Bokuto could do little else but silently bob his mouth open and shut. He decided to leave the conversation at that, and attempt to fall asleep, because he was rapidly growing travel sick. One of the symptoms of this sickness seemed to be an uncontrollable urge to run his fingers through Akaashi’s soft dark silky beautiful hair and tell him to smile more. Another was violent nausea.

 **+1**       

  Bokuto was hunched over on Akaashi’s bed, sobbing.  
Currently, Akaashi was debating whether or not to join him. This was not what he had expected when he invited Bokuto around for dinner with his Mother. Normally they went to Bokuto’s house after school; his place was noisier, and the odds of a small child bashing into you were much higher, but he had more video games and a larger backyard, and the silence of Akaashi’s house made Bokuto fidget.  
    Today was different. Bokuto was leaving for university in just three weeks. Though his new dorms were but an hour away, and Akaashi was proud that his Captain had received a sports scholarship, the idea of an hour separating him and Bokuto was perhaps a little distressing.  
   “You have no friends other than Koutarou-kun,” His Mother had said.  
   “I have my teammates and plenty of classroom acquaintances with similar interests to me,”  
   “You have no real friends other than Koutarou-kun,” His Mother had said.  
  Inviting Bokuto over for dinner had been for Akaashi’s Mother rather than himself anyway. The woman had been enchanted by Bokuto from their first meeting, had encouraged him to come over more often, to have second helpings, to assist ‘Kei-chan’ with his homework.  
   Bokuto had giggled incessantly at that pet name, only stopping when Akaashi reminded him he had failed all but one of his end of year exams while Akaashi had aced his.  
    It was quite the opposite of what Akaashi had expected. He had thought his Mother would disapprove of Bokuto’s wild hair, sloppy fashion sense and childish demeanour, tire of it quickly and subtly imply he should surround himself with more sophisticated peers. Instead, she had immediately taken it upon herself to coddle the older boy, Bokuto’s presence always making her more playful, more likely to tease Akaashi, more likely to pinch his cheeks. Sometimes Akaashi wished his Mother did hate Bokuto, simply to reduce his own embarrassment and Bokuto’s own ego. No - she _had_ to be endlessly endeared by his ridiculous antics.  
    (Many people told Akaashi him and his Mother were scarily alike.)  
    Bringing Bokuto down for a meal would be impossible with him in this state. Sobs racked his body, face shiny and glistening from wet tear tracks. His hands were balled tight in Akaashi’s clean white sheets, painfully so, and Akaashi silently prayed no snot dripped down onto his bed. What had brought this on? Bokuto had been discussing his new dorm room, and how he would arrange his rather impressive collection of volleyball posters, when Akaashi had looked up from his homework and said,  
   “You will like University very much, I’m sure. A new team will be an exciting challenge for you.”  
    Slow tears had built in Bokuto’s eyes at these words, before he let out a roar and started violently weeping.  
    In his head, Akaashi repeatedly analysed the sentence to see what may have set Bokuto off. Perhaps the term ‘challenge’ wasn’t the best decision. Challenge was good for Bokuto, but he didn’t enjoy being told so. He enjoyed being told that his spikes were brilliant, that his poses were very cool and that he was a volleyball god beyond comparison. Akaashi suppressed an eyeroll. How was Bokuto going to cope as an adult with his own place of residence when he still couldn’t cope with there being aspects of life that could challenge him?  
    “I-I’m not gonna enj-j-joy university, ‘Kaashi, not, not without you,”  
   Oh. _  
_ Well, that was a rather annoying route for this conversation to go down. It made Akaashi’s chest hurt a little bit. He kept his face impassive.  
    “We’ve discussed this before, Bokuto-san. I thought you planned to visit your family on the weekends. We would see each other then.”  
    Watery golden irises scrutinised him.  
    “That’s not what I mean! They’re gonna hate me! The new team’s gonna h-hate me!”  
    Genuinely, Akaashi had never heard anything more untrue. He had no doubt that Bokuto’s University teammates would find him irritating and immature and tempermental, as he did on occasion, but he was unsure anyone could find it within themselves to hate Bokuto. While his behaviour was abnormal and highly vexing, ultimately his heart was kind. There was this particularly pure simplicity about Bokuto, an ability to put his heart and soul into one emotion, to bubble over with excitement for the most miniscule of things, that made everything but him seem dispassionate and boring in comparison. The idea of someone seeing Bokuto’s guileless smile and unearthing anything even remotely similar to hatred seemed impossible to Akaashi.  
   “They aren’t going to hate you, Bokuto-san,”  
   “You don’t know that, ‘Kaashi! They’ll think I’m annoying. They’ll think I’m so so annoying.”  
   Akaashi didn’t lie to Bokuto, so he stayed silent, rather than insisting _no of course they won’t they’ll love love love_ you as a good friend might. He pursed his lips together, thinking of how to reply. He chose to rise from his desk and sit next to Bokuto on his bed instead. The television programme Bokuto had been watching garbled on unheard in the background.  
   “I’m gonna hate it the-there, don’t you get it? My Mom and Dad keep saying I’ll – I’m gonna, I’ll get used to it, that’s not true! I’m an idiot! I can’t talk to people! I start and I can’t shut my mouth and they’ll think I’m some….some kinda…and not without you, or Yukie, or the other guys on the team, they get it but…these guys are gonna think I’m a mess. It’s so competitive, man, they just won’t care! They’re basically professionals! They haven’t got time for my bullshit,” Bokuto painfully scrunched up his face and put it in his hands.  
     _Like a piece of paper,_ Akaashi thought.  
   “I’m sure in a high level university team like Tokai, your teammates will have some odd behaviours of their own. They will understand,”  
   “You’re too nice to me, Akaashi,”  
   “Perhaps.”  
   “You’re going to forget about me,”  
   “No.”  
   “You’re gonna forget about me, Akaashi. Everyone is. Except maybe Kuroo but he’s nearby, he’s sticking with volleyball. Nobody else is. Konoha and Saru an-and Yukie and Washio and…You’re going to forget about me, you’ll be too into your studies, you’re gonna find smarter people and…b-better people to hang out with you’ll…It’s scary, Akaashi. My parents are wrong. I won’t get used to it, I’ll be stuck, and if you forget about me and the new team hates me…If I don’t have you guys or volleyball, what do I have? Nothing. I’m worthless, I’m…”  
   Hearing the ins and outs of Bokuto’s head was tiring and upsetting. Akaashi leaned in and kissed Bokuto so both their mouths were occupied and no words could be said. Kissing was not something they had ever done before, but the stuff Bokuto was saying went beyond his regular schmuck about being terrible at volleyball and giving it up for life. What he had said about Akaashi forgetting him hit a markedly sore spot for the younger boy; he too feared their drifting apart. The fact Bokuto, in all his naivety, was aware their friendship would most likely not stand the test of time, was disheartening. Life without Bokuto would be quieter, and more productive, but significantly more boring as well.  
   And this talk of Bokuto’s worthlessness made him feel irrationally angry.  
   It only seemed logical to kiss him. A solid, if somewhat reckless promise their relationship went beyond ‘forgotten high school friend’, a reassurance that Bokuto was wanted, and a way to shut him up. If Bokuto did not reciprocate Akaashi’s feelings, he would lean back, shocked out of his frantic blubbering. If he reciprocated…  
   Well, that would be nice.  
   Akaashi was aware they were far more intimate than the word ‘friend’ implied. He could tell from Kuroo’s sly comments and the knowing grins of Konoha and Yukie and the cock of Kenma’s head when Akaashi tied Bokuto’s shoelaces. He could tell because frequently he wanted to stroke Bokuto’s hair even further back and kiss his collar bone and lick the thin strip of skin that separated his shorts and knee pads.  
   Akaashi had been planning on letting go of these juvenile feelings after graduation, but he could hardly send Bokuto off to University in this state. He might as well have utilised his emotions for the good of _everyone._  
   The kiss was brief and soft and wet with tears and afterwards, Bokuto sniffed very loudly and said nothing at all. That was encouraging.  
   “I think you should see somebody, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. He was closer to Bokuto now, practically in his lap.  
   “Like…like you?” Everything in Bokuto’s face has softened, filled with longing, with affection, dimples and eyes crinkled.  
   “Like a therapist.”  
    An instant passed. Their breath mingled, warm and near. The brief quiet of the moment snapped.  
   “AGAAASDSHSHI!”  
    Agaaasdshshi winced.  
   “Yes?”  
   “OH MY GOD DO YOU LIKE ME?”  
   “I…”  
   “Do you?” Bokuto’s knee started bouncing erratically. “Do you?”  
   “Yes, Bokuto-san, I do like you. I presume you mean romantically.”  
   “Woah.”  
   Akaashi translated this ‘woah’ into ‘obviously I meant romantically you absolute robot of a human being I also like you too’.  
   “I will not be forgetting about you while you’re away,”  
    Bokuto’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’.  
   “I do not think forgetting you is even an option.”  
   Bokuto nodded frenziedly. He grabbed Akaashi’s hands and placed them in his lap, rubbing small circles on his palms.  
    “I think while you’re at University you should think about seeing a therapist.”  
    “My Dad’s said that a couple of times,”  
    “And we should start a romantic relationship,”  
    Suddenly, the grip on Akaashi’s hands became so tight he had to wrench them away. A gradual, blinding smile formed on Bokuto’s face.  
    “Okay.”  
    Akaashi frowned.  
    “That’s it?”  
    “You’re very beautiful, Akaashi,”  
    “Oh.”  
    “You’re so pretty.”  
    “Just because we’re dating does not mean you have permission to become unbearably and tackily affectionate,”  
    Bokuto’s began caressing the nape of his neck.  
    “We’re dating,”  
     “I’m glad I have started a relationship with someone so eloquent,”  
     “Akaashi!” Bokuto stopped caressing his neck.  
     “Are you feeling better, Bokuto-san?”  
     “Yeah. I’m still nervous, but…”  
     “Your new teammates will find you obnoxious, in all honesty, but they’ll also enjoy your enthusiasm,”  
      “Really?”  
      “Yes. And you are not worthless, Bokuto-san. Not even close,”  
      "I..." Akaashi quirked an eyebrow at Bokuto's hesitation. "Thanks, 'Kaashi,"  
      "Your current teammates would sooner forget a tornado that destroyed their house than they'd forget you,"  
     “’What - I -You just kissed me you can’t decide to be mean now!”  
     “I only kissed you to shut you up.”  
    Bokuto’s whine was silenced by Akaashi’s lips once again.  
     
  

**Author's Note:**

> hi yeah this is my first fic the last like. 2000 words are unedited because i got lazy also what's sentence structure? anyway yeah i'm aware how i arrange my sentences and my frequent repetition of certain words leaves a lot to be desired, but i'm pretty proud of this as far as first fics go. I did some for the hunger games fandom when i was about 10 but that hardly counts so...
> 
> anyway thanks a lot please leave a kudos, a comment and come find me at https://heyheyheyyyyyyyyyyyyy.tumblr.com/


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